


king's is fine for courting

by bossymarmalade (maggie)



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggie/pseuds/bossymarmalade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Murdoch and Doctor Ogden have that cup of coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	king's is fine for courting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for absinthe_spoons

 

 

"Oh, do you take your coffee straight, then?"

Murdoch froze with the cup halfway to his lips, unsure how to answer such a question when he'd rather not be drinking the dreadful stuff at all.  He opted to remain silent for a moment longer -- a ploy which had served him well in the past -- and sure enough Doctor Ogden put two lumps of sugar in her own cup and added some cream, continuing, "I prefer mine with cream and sugar.  In fact, I sometimes prefer my tea this way as well, although not in public.  It's amazing the way that people feel as if it's their duty to inform a person how she _should_ be drinking her tea."  She looked up and Murdoch hastily lowered his cup to the tray.

"Well, then," he said, "I feel I should try your version.  To be fair."  Doctor Ogden blinked, smiling pleasantly, and deftly made his cup a match to her own.  "It can be rather strong on its own," she said after a comfortable sip, "but this way it's quite pleasant."

She was right, Murdoch was relieved to find.  He drank a bit himself and then said, "Constable Crabtree enjoys his coffee plain, but I much prefer your method.  It reminds me of my time at the logging camp -- the cook would brew great big strong jorums of tea for us in the morning.  So strong it was almost black, much like this."

Doctor Ogden shook her head.  "I still have such a hard time imagining you working at a logging camp, William," she said.  Her fingertips were white, then pink when she moved them along the warm china cup.  Murdoch shook himself out of staring at them and raised his eyebrows, and she hurriedly said, "-- it's just that you always seemed rather more ... bookish to me.  Not that you couldn't also be an excellent logger, of course ...." She trailed off, a corner of her mouth quirking in the way she had when feeling embarrassed.  Murdoch wondered just when he'd begun noticing that sort of thing about her.

"You're not wrong," he said.  "Book learning was the greater part of Jesuit school and I took to it more earnestly than most.  I was good at logging, too, but, well, as they say -- you can take the boy from his books, but you can't take the books out of the boy."  He paused, replaying that in his head, and amended, "or something like that."  Doctor Ogden looked more relaxed now (although why his being trip-tongued would calm her, he had no idea) and he took the opportunity to begin, "I would imagine that you, also, Doctor Ogden --"

"Oh, please, William --" she waved one hand and he smelled a faint trace of lily-of-the-valley, and underneath it formaldehyde.  It should have been less pleasant than it was.  "We're off-duty, you can call me Julia."

"Julia," he repeated obediently.  It felt strange in his mouth, but he could get accustomed to it.  In time.  Perhaps.  "I would imagine that you knew from a very young age what vocational dreams meant most to you, what you wanted to do with your life."

She raised her nose and gave a pert, coquettish nod.  It was very strange; for all that Doctor Ogden said that she found the affected airs and stringent decorum of King's Club tedious, Murdoch could see her very much belonging here, among her own upper set.  "I had endless dolly hospitals," she told him.  "My parents were mortified, of course, to find that I was still interested in such things once I reached a certain age, and they insisted that if I studied medicine at college, I would have to attend an equivalent number of etiquette classes and society garden parties. They thought I'd meet a man and forget about medicine, or at least become a pediatrician, something more suitable for a woman than mucking around in body parts."  She paused.  Murdoch was about to apologize for having brought up a painful subject when she rallied and continued, "But, as they say -- you can take the girl out of the hearts, but you can't take the heart out of the girl!  Until she becomes a forensic pathologist and has the right tools, that is."  Doctor Ogden laughed merrily, then trailed off, looking somewhat aghast.  Murdoch sipped his coffee to make her feel better.

"Oh--!  You're still here!"  Constable Crabtree came skidding out onto the veranda where they were taking coffee, tipping his fingers to his helmet when he saw the Doctor as well.

"Yes, Constable."

"Very good, sir."  Crabtree stood there rocking on his heels and vibrating, smiling, looking from Murdoch to the Doctor and back again.  Murdoch prompted, "... is there anything in particular you need from us, George?"

"Perhaps you'd like some coffee?" Doctor Ogden offered.  Murdoch thought this was a particularly bad idea -- given the already-frenetic wideness of Crabtree's eyes and his inability to stand still, he'd already imbibed quite enough of the stuff -- but to his surprise George shook his head.

"No thank you, ma'am," he declined politely.  "It was only some fine details for the paperwork that I needed the Detective for, no need to interrupt yourselves.  Please, continue as you were.  I'll catch you back at the office then, eh, sir?"  George directed a wide grin at him and Murdoch nodded.

"Yes, thank you, George."  They watched as Crabtree marched smartly around the corner of the veranda and Doctor Ogden remarked, "The constable certainly is devoted to his job."

"As are we all," Murdoch said.  "I seem to recall that you spent almost forty-eight consecutive hours in your morgue when we had those strychnine poisonings--"

Doctor Ogden looked delighted.  "Oh, yes!  The case that single-handedly brought the Gooderham and Worts Distillery close to shutting down.  I remember it well; it's rare that the constabulary becomes so invested in the success of my part of the investigative process."

Murdoch leaned forward.  "What I meant to ask you was -- how were you able to predict what sort of victims would be brought in next?  You promised to explain and never did."

"A lady needs her secrets, William," Doctor Ogden said primly, but she was clearly bursting to tell and so she continued, "it all has to do with the tannic acid that is commonly used as a treatment for strychnine poisoning."

"Ahhhhh," Murdoch said.  "And commonly found in strong concentrations of black tea."

"Precisely."

They carried on discussing the details of the case, voices becoming more animated and overlapping until even Crabtree (who had found a cunning little spot just 'round the corner of the veranda in which to perch) could make out what they were saying without straining too hard.  He listened eagerly for a moment, and then his interest gradually turned into disbelief.  Strychnine poisoning?  Woodmakers?  Administration of copperas?!?  He shook his head and hopped down.  Might as well go back to the station, seeing as the conversation that Detective Murdoch and Doctor Ogden were having could take place there just as well as in a swishy society club. Besides, Crabtree could use the free time to rally his strategy, since it was clear he was going to need one to get anything done about the situation.

Detective Murdoch was uncommon clever about a great many things, but perhaps playing Cupid was a job for a Constable.

 


End file.
